I woke to a room full of sunlight and the most ridiculous Italian shower in the world. I should have taken a picture of it—it was that terrible! To fully understand the horror, you must know that the bathroom is built in a converted attic. An attic with ceiling height going from about 6 ft to 0 ft at a perfect diagonal. Also the roof is hard wood and very painful.
Now, where did the builders put the bathtub? Right at the low end of the room. Which means that the bather in question has at maximum 4 feet of space to stand in. So, in order to shower, I had to crouch in the tub, holding the water overhead and try very hard to not make any sudden upward movements at the risk of giving myself a naked concussion.
Oh and also there was no curtain, so the water went everywhere and made a disgusting mess!
After this auspicious start to the morning, we hiked off to the train station and headed to Verona. No conductors appeared, which was lucky as I’d forgotten to validate our tickets and wasn’t sure how well the “stupid foreigner” card works in Italy. We found our B&B (Verona doesn’t have a youth hostel so we had to find cheap B&Bs instead) without any problems and met the owner Luca. Two important things I learned about Luca in the first minute of meeting him: he gets “we” and “you” missed up, uses them interchangeably, which makes for some interesting conversations. Oh and he’s perfectly comfortable answering the door in his boxers.
Italian undies aside, the place was nice and had a normal shower.
Our time in Verona consisted of finding pizzas to devour and tripping over the entrance to Juliet’s house. Which is a great tourist trap, some old mansion where they pasted an old-looking balcony on the wall, giving tourists a place to take pictures. The courtyard is covered in graffiti (letters to Juliet and lovers’ initials) even though “defacing” the walls is technically banned.
And to top it off, there’s a Juliet statue with a very shiny right boob—because groping the statue is supposed to bring you your soulmate in a year’s time or something like that.
That night we went out with my British friend Hannah for (more) pizza and vino, which were amazing and delicious. We also got a great recommendation for a nearby lake, and so made our plans for the following day…
On beach day, we collected picnic materials and wandered off through the city to the train station, bikinis in tow. We ended up at Lake Garda, at the same train station as what appeared to be a lame Italian version of Disneyworld. However, the beach itself was pretty and most importantly, it was a beach! So we sunbathed all afternoon. Rae got her first glimpse of the wondrous phenomenon that is the European Speedo, as well as plenty of topless old ladies, woo!
Back in Verona, we made last-minute hostel reservations for the following day and then went to the pizza place from the night before, yeah, AGAIN! And the pizza was delicious again. Also worth noting: we saw Hannah and her mom at the restaurant again too; we’re all just addicted to that place I suppose.
That night we also had a miscommunication with the waitress, which fortunately resulted in us ordering a much better wine than we’d intended (haha). We wanted the cheap house wine, but somehow used the wrong words and ended up with 14€ wine instead. Now, I maintain that this was a fortunate mistake because the wine was yummy and…very potent.
On a completely unrelated note, we crossed the wrong bridge on our walk back and ended up taking a long moonlit stroll along the Verona riverbanks. We finally made it back to the hotel and crashed, ignoring the loud drunk Italians yelling below our window.